


The King And His Coffee

by LA_Peach



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Collar play, Fellatio, Goat, Goat Cock, Leash Play, Lube, M/M, Not drunk sex, asgore dom, ecto cock, fluffy bed, mention of wine, sex on a big, skeleton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:01:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21781864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LA_Peach/pseuds/LA_Peach
Summary: Coffee has been sent to fetch a particular book from the old runaway king.  But it's awfully late by the time Coffee gets there and the collar around his neck sparks some intimate activities.
Relationships: Coffee - Relationship, Swap Asgore - Relationship
Kudos: 11





	The King And His Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Something of a spiritual successor to my fic "Coffee with a Collar." We just wanted to see Coffee getting the sweet attention that he really deserves. 
> 
> Note: I treat the AU's as separate regions of the underground, so intermingling is common.
> 
> Not great at tagging, please let me know if I miss something and I'll add it. Comments/Kudos always welcome!

By the time Coffee made it all the way to the little cottage, it was well after dark. It was not a particularly long journey from his home to the forest, but it was such a lovely walk, he’d had gotten lost in the tranquillity and calmness. It was a friendly-feeling forest; tall trees that you could see through for ages, the soft light of dusk permeated this place, even when the sun was high.

The others probably wouldn’t worry about him… they never did.

The cottage was not very large, but it seemed well cared for. The roof had been covered in thatch, the walls in rough cut lumber. It smelled of wood, although Coffee couldn’t begin to tell which one. He knocked on the door, it opened in a timely manner, spilling yellow light out onto the steps. As a swell of warmth washed over him, Coffee realised it was getting cold out.

King Asgore, estranged husband of Queen Toriel, the man who was rumoured to have abandoned the kingdom, was a giant beast of a man. He towered over Coffee, who was no stranger to heights himself. He hadn’t ever met the man, but he was astounded and speechless at the sight of him. His horns, long and curved, sat atop a soft shock of bangs that hung low over his eyes. Coffee could only see one at a time, and he wondered why the King hadn’t had that trimmed. He wore a loose flannel button down shirt over tan slacks. 

Coffee trembled in the doorway, unable to speak.

At first glance the King seemed cold and distant, much like the Queen. But as his eyes adjusted the King smiled, all such thoughts melted. He had kind eyes and big, gentle looking hands. 

“Ah! You’re much later than I expected. Come in, come in.”

Coffee was ushered in, the door closed softly behind him. He stood in the entrance, looking around at the one roomed cottage. It smelled awfully nice. A fire sparked happily in a large fireplace where something delicious bubbled in a small pot. Dried garlic, peppers, and various herbs hung from the ceiling. A bowl of fresh eggs lay on the counter. Everything except the few appliances were made of wood, the bed was covered in heavy wool blankets and furs. There was no modern electronics, or even a television, but a bookcase free of dust seemed to suggest how Asgore spent his evenings.

“I was expecting Papyrus. Or perhaps Edge himself.” He held out one giant hand in a gesture of friendship. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. Call me King.”

“Coffee, m-my lord,” mumbled Coffee, shaking the hand that dwarfed his own. 

“Ah now,” he wagged a finger, “none of that ‘my lord’ business.” He chuckled. “Just ‘King.’ I’m not really a king anymore but it’s a nickname I’ve grown used to. Like a dog.” He laughed jovially. Coffee’s hoody said “Warm.” A simple statement. He was blushing too, although he couldn’t say why. 

He couldn’t think of anything to say. Why had Edge sent him along on this errand? He wasn’t exactly… wordy. Small talk baffled him, polite conversation came unnaturally. This was a disaster waiting to happen.

“Well, have a seat.” King waved to the simple chairs surrounding the small kitchen table. There were place settings for one, but he began to set another place as Coffee sat. There was going to be dinner? He hadn’t been prepared for that. He thought he’d come, pick up the book, and wander off back home. 

“I was just about to sit down to dinner. Join me? It’s so very late, you must be hungry.” Coffee said nothing as a wooden bowl was set in front of him. King also poured a bit of wine in a plain, wooden cup. Coffee swallowed. Wine? This was too much, he wasn’t anyone important. King set the pot, hot from the fire, on top of an oven mitt on the table. On the opposite side of that, he placed a large, very old looking book. He ladled a thick stew into both of their bowls and sat back, regarding Coffee with those soft brown eyes.

“So. Edge never said. Why do you need a book about the history of succession in the Swap region? I hadn’t even realized I’d taken it with me when I left.”

Coffee tucked his skull into his hoody a little, suddenly very aware of why they’d sent him. The old king didn’t know. In the event he didn’t take the news well… well, Coffee was expendable. King took spoonfuls of stew, patiently waiting for an answer. Coffee had said all of three words since he’d gotten here, he’d have to say something eventually. And he wasn’t very good at lying.

“Q-queen’s pregnant.”

The spoon stopped halfway to King’s mouth, but it seemed he had suddenly lost his appetite and, carefully, put the spoon back in the bowl.

“I uh… didn’t know she had re-married.”

“She didn’t.”

King took a long moment, breathing in and out very carefully. “I see. So you need the book to see if there is any precedence for her child to inherit the throne.” Coffee nodded. “Who… ah, who’s the father?”

“Dunno.”

He didn’t seem to like that answer. But after a moment, he picked up his spoon again and began to empty his bowl. “Eat,” he encouraged. “It’s good stew. Shouldn’t let it go to waste.” So they did, albeit in silence. Coffee’s hoody said ‘Sorry,’ in small letters. He ate, even though he had little appetite at the moment. 

He took a sip of wine, and had to pause to regard it carefully. It was deliciously sweet, a deep purple colour. 

The atmosphere changed almost immediately. “Do you like the wine?”

Coffee smiled, and nodded. It was uncommonly good for what he assumed must be homemade. 

“It’s made from wild blueberries! I spent all summer collecting them by hand.” Coffee took another appreciative drink. “I’m glad you like it! No one else has had a chance to taste it besides myself, hehe.” After that, his jovial demeanour came back, and Coffee found he was rather enjoying himself. King began sharing stories of his life in the cottage, mostly about woodland creatures who happened across his path, or his vegetable garden out back. He liked to talk and Coffee was more than happy to listen.

They finished off the stew and Coffee, with some regret, gathered up the book to begin his journey home. He reached across the table. King frowned suddenly, reaching out himself and hooking a giant finger around the collar around Coffee’s neck.

He’d forgotten about that! He’d slipped it on this morning, just to help him feel… more comfortable as he travelled to some place unfamiliar. He was frozen, stretched across the table with King pulling on the collar with a strange anger that he hadn’t anticipated.

“What’s this? Is someone doing this to you? Are you in some sort of trouble?”

Coffee struggled, beads of sweat formed on his skull and dripped onto his own hands, which had spring up, gripping his own collar frantically. How could he explain? King would never understand.

His hoody said ‘mine mine mine mine it’s mine’

King, his eyes moving frantically up and down, searching Coffee’s face, suddenly let go. The tall skeleton tucked his knees up to his chin, flipping his hood up to cover his face, he tried to bury himself in bones and clothes. His blush was embarrassed and fearful… what did the old king think of him now? His teeth chattered. As much as he didn’t want King to get the wrong idea… well… he’d liked the pulling. 

Coffee peeked his head out from the hood when he heard a great sigh. King, pinching the bridge of his nose, looked flustered. “Hey uh, sorry. I over stepped my bounds. You don’t have to tell me about the collar.” Coffee reached out and dragged the book closer to him, not making eye contact.

King coughed behind one massive fist. “You can leave now if you like. But it’s fully dark and the forest isn’t safe at night. Wolf is likely to run away with your bones.”

Obviously still flustered, the skeleton pushed the book back to its original place. King was staring at him, Coffee didn’t like that. He squirmed in his chair.

“It’s getting late. Why don’t you crash on the bed. It’ll be morning before you know it.”

It was such a kind statement. It will be morning before you know it. He was acknowledging Coffee’s obvious unease. He relaxed again, taking a moment to stretch out his long legs and plant them on the floor. 

The fire sparked and crackled, the noise was calming. Its soft glow made small shadows play across the room. As coffee watched it, he was reminded of this small space and how… safe it felt. It was small, certainly, but warm, both in temperature and atmosphere. Before he was really aware of it, the bed was in front of him. Up close he realised how absolutely massive it was, and yet it too, had a warmth about it with its piles of furs and fluffy quilts. 

That bed… would be perfect for…

He nearly jumped when he heard King clear his throat behind him. “If you get cold I have some extra blankets…”

“I-I’m not going to get cold.”

“Okay.”

He was so near. Coffee could feel the heat rolling off of him. 

If he’d had eyes, they would have rolled themselves back into his skull. A tiny tug, so gentle he might have missed it, tightened the collar ever so slightly against his throat. 

“So… this collar,” King whispered in his ear. “It’s yours?”

Coffee nodded.

“What if… it were mine? J-just for tonight.”

His knees were weak, his heart skipped a beat. Coffee managed to nod again. He was rewarded with another tug. He obeyed when King tugged him closer to the bed, watched loyally as, while keeping one meaty finger curled around his collar, making him bend when King bent, he pulled a length of what looked like leather from under the bed. “Don’t have a proper leash. This will do for now?”

Coffee nodded emphatically. He closed his eyes, feeling the subtle movements as King tied the strip of leather around the loop on the collar. He gasped when King stood and pulled the leather tight, forcing Coffee onto his toes.

He didn’t realize he was smiling, but King was happy to see it. If he saw a moment of hesitation, he’d stop. But the skeleton’s excitement was palpable. Besides which his hoody had changed again. It read: ‘harder, daddy.’ King smiled himself, and pulled just a little harder.

With his other hand, king slowly, and as delicately as his could, undid the button on the skeleton’s jeans. Once it was undone, they fell to the floor. He slipped a hand under Coffee’s hoody, caressing his ribs, but when he moved to take the sweater off, Coffee placed a hand on his and shook his head, just slightly. 

“Alright,” He conceded, but trying to play along, he gave the leash a little jerk. “Do mine, then.”

Coffee swallowed. How was he doing this so perfectly? He hadn’t really seemed the collar and leash type but… his hold was steady and firm, he wasn’t shaking or laughing nervously…

He reached out, undoing the buttons on King’s flannel shirt one by one. They popped open, revealing a shaggy, muscled chest and large, round belly. He couldn’t help but run his fingers through the hair, feel his stomach. If he looked up, he’d have seen King biting his lip. 

Another little jerk. “Faster.”

Coffee obeyed happily, even if his hands shook with excitement as he took off King’s pants, marvelling at the boxer briefs he wore. It was a human thing, underpants. Not many monsters wore them. He soon saw the appeal however, the excitement in him rose as he slowly peeled the briefs from King’s thighs. 

He swallowed. Like the rest of him, King’s package was enormous. 

The smell of him, clean but… animal… washed over him. He breathed deep, trying not to look too obvious about it. 

But King was… perceptive. Another tug brought Coffee in against his thigh, his member pressing against the skeleton’s cheek. Coffee’s head was filled with the scent if him. His tongue, bright and glowing, slipped from between his teeth, panting. 

“Not yet.” King ordered, “hands first.”

Gently, Coffee stroked him, first just with the tips of his fingers. As his cock began to swell, Coffee used his palms. It was large and fleshy and he could feel the blood coursing through it. Fully erect he was a monster to behold, long and with a corkscrew twist. Monster cocks were unpredictable, much more so than a skeleton, who could form basically whatever they wanted with a little practice. This however, was not what Coffee had been expecting. He loved it, he wanted to taste it.

King, ever gentle, slipped a thumb in between Coffee’s teeth. “Alright, now your mouth.’ 

He did. His tongue lapped at the underside of King’s cock, his teeth grazed its top. King grunted as he moved back and forth. He lost himself, biting down a bit too hard. King jerked, but didn’t break character. Instead, he hooked a finger around the back of Coffee’s collar and pulled him, shaking, to his feet. 

Leash still in hand, King tipped him backwards, where he landed with a muted thud. Coffee waited for instructions, trembling on the bed, naked from the waist down. His bones clacked together gently. King lay down beside him, rolled him over on his side. His giant hands tickled his hips, and he tapped his pubic bone with the tip of clawed finger. 

Coffee tried to contain it, but his body wouldn’t be ignored. He formed his genitals almost against his will. King’s muzzle nestled in his neck, his breath smelled like stew and wine. He shuddered; King played with him, teased him, until he too was as hard as the cock he could feel against his spine. 

“Open your eyes.”

Coffee turned slightly, to see King had pulled out a small bottle of lubricant. The bottle was dwarfed in his hand, and he made a small show of dribbling the lube onto his cock from a height. The stream of lube, running from the bottle to his member, was perhaps the most erotic thing Coffee had ever witnessed. 

So to perhaps, was the deep breath the giant goat took, before wrapping his hand around Coffee’s femur, and lifting it. His other hand took hold of the leash, wrapping it into his fist a few times so that it didn’t slip or get lost. Then, ever so quietly, he whispered “Ready?”

Coffee nodded. His hoody was a string of incoherent letters and spaces; he couldn’t form any proper thoughts.

He gasped when he felt King’s cock press against his anus, he tensed when that cock inserted, and he whimpered as he felt the base of him rest against his hips. He was so warm, King’s belly pressed against Coffee’s spine, his thighs rubbed the backs of Coffee’s thighs. It was immeasurable the comfort and pleasure he felt at this moment.

The old goat began to move, not fast, not slow, but at a moderate, conservative pace. He grunted, sending little shivers up and down Coffee’s spine. Every once in a while, King would give the leash a tug or a jerk, sometimes pulling hard and steady on it. The little variations of pulling and lurching kept Coffee grounded, forcing him to focus on the feelings. King filled him to the brim with every thrust, lingering a moment against his anus before pulling back again.

Soon the bed was rocking, furs tickling at his bones, King’s hot breath in his ear. Before too long King began to lose himself too, pumping faster and faster. Coffee’s cock bounced between his legs, his tongue drooled on the bed. 

Suddenly King’s pace quickened, he made little whimpering noises. When he came, jerking hard on the leash and spilling hot cum inside of him, Coffee released as well, unable to stop the intense feelings that rolled and washed over him from King’s climax. Seed, his and his lover’s, spilled down his thigh.

King pulled himself free, his considerable cock still spilling cum across the bed, Coffee shaking in a post-climax bliss. They panted together, clearing their heads of the fog that had made them so wild. King wrapped his arms around Coffee’s middle, holding him close, wanting to say sweet things but not really needing too.

The old goat began chatting again, when he’d caught his breath. And Coffee listened to stories again, as King told him a few tales from his youth, before he became King. He dosed off for a time, and when he blinked away the sleep King was still talking. He hadn’t seemed to care that Coffee had nodded off. 

Eventually Coffee asked a question or two, and before he knew it he sat astride King’s belly, actively chatting about this and that, for so long that the sun began to peak its happy rays through the little gaps in the door. 

Still neither of them suggested getting on with their day, so Coffee stayed. He stayed so long that King made him a simple breakfast of eggs and toast. Then he figured he would help with some chores before he left, assisting the retired king as he chopped wood and washed some laundry. Soon it was time to eat again, and sooner still it had gotten dark.

They stayed this way for the better part of a week, chatting and doing chores by day, eating home cooked foods and making love by night, napping here and there when they had to. By the time Edge came looking for him, Coffee had almost forgotten that this wasn’t his home.

“I might as well have come for the book myself, had I known you wouldn’t bother to come back.”

“S-sorry, Edge. Lost track of t-time.” He handed his bundle of freshly chopped firewood to King, who made sure they had the book. 

“My fault. I insisted he stay and help with some chores, in return for borrowing that book.”

Edge just scoffed. “For five days?” 

King just shrugged.

The skeletons began their journey home, and King smiled and waved. It wouldn’t be the last time he’d see his new paramour, and he was certainly glad of that.

On the back of Coffee’s hoody, a 7-digit number was display with the hopeful message “Call me?” scrawled across the back.


End file.
